Bottom's Up//Let's Drown

From a passerby.

2010-07-25T21:38:00.001+08:00

Once upon a time... I don't quite know why I am writing this either. 5 years ago I've lost a muse.

Today I feel inspired. As perverse as it is, your pain brings about a sense of nostalgia; I've grown much too accustomed to. Okay I'm digressing.

Once upon a time, there lived a man in a rundown camp somewhere in a forest. A pretty pathetic existence I’d say. A bowl of rice and some fish a day at his best perhaps?

One day, while half asleep, with a storm brewing, he heard the whimpering of a small animal. He walked to look for it. Imagine how surprised he was to see an injured baby fox. He wanted to. No he felt compelled to nurse it to health.

He shared his meagre meals. God knows what other trouble he went through to get the fox up and running.

But as soon as the fox got better, as the man was asleep, he felt something bit him. And it bit him hard. Till his calves was bleeding kind of hard. What else can he do but find a stick to whack the bloody fella. But how could he? He nursed it. And it bit him not having a care in the world what he felt.

As he smacked the fox with a stick, he muttered, “You used me.”

It could be a figment of his imagination or maybe he was just crazy, but he heard.

“Is is that bad? To be useful?”

And off went the fox, away to wherever it wanted to.

As for the man, he did what he needed to. Recover. And live like nothing had happened.

Okay end of story. But this doesn’t mean we avoid being like the man and close ourselves up. Don’t be afraid of being hurt. Because at some point of our pathetic lives, we will be.

And, don't build walls anymore. Build bridges, to wherever you want to.

Epitaph.

2010-07-16T11:04:00.003+08:00

He was an idiot. He had let go of the most amazing girl because of his selfishness. And let's leave it at that.

Six months on. He met a new girl. An amazing one. He pampered her, and showered her with attention. Something he never knew he was capable of. He gave her his all. But it ended.

It fell. Just like, the seasonal autumn leaves.

Circumstances will bring things to a level they could never comprehend.

...

She was an above average girl so as to describe. Her demeanour’s pleasant.

When he decided, she wasn't worth it out of anger. She was determined to make him regret. This was her mistake.

Somewhere along the lines, she found someone new. He was possibly different, and "everything she ever wanted". So they got together, and for the next few months, things settled down for the new couple.

Then came back, the old boy, the ex boyfriend. He suggested the past. And she, jumped at the idea. Another mistake. We can't quite ditch a relationship for a new one when you're in one. You're failing both. She decided for the former. But then she realised. He was different. And her determination to make things work for a memory has left her the guilt of breaking a person.

A realisation that it was memories they were both in love with. She had gambled everything and lost. But the dealer was offering her a chance.

...

He was with a girl for a long while. He would have grown accustomed to her presence. First mistake was he broke up with her.

Treasure a person and don't use a break up as a means to resolve things. It never does.

So she found someone new. He couldn't accept that fact. He grew whiny and complained his pains away.

At that point he still loves her. Months crept on by. And. He thought of a plan. So it was executed for him. She did it for him.

He then realised he couldn't love her as much. Or none at all. Change has set him in a different path. At this point, he was only in love with the idea of being in love and a beautiful memory. So she fell. But there was none to catch her.

"Sometimes, he loves you; sometimes his love for her fades."

And so his story ends here. With all that's left to be said has been done.

All’s ended. And we’re still the ‘aam junta’.

The fisherman and the fish.

2010-07-09T15:00:00.001+08:00

They said we’re shaped into His likeness. But I don’t quite get why. We’re the most appalling creatures; entirely unworthy of that description. And what right do I have to say that? Whatever courage or sense of mystery I used to have became nullified when she asked.

“Why?”

I admit I was a nervous wreck. Even before that, in the most pathetic attempt to cover my ass, I’ve practiced saying the inevitable. But at that moment, that hundredth of a second, my mind refused to conspire.

“Uh, I’ll never tell why.”

The phone vibrated,

“Irritating.”

And I turned the phone off.

...

It’s pathetic I know, but pretty much this is how denial goes. I took a walk down the aisles, looking and deciding on a drink to drown my sorrows in. It's not the most difficult choice to make you see. Same bloody shit, just different labels. I can pretty much classify these everyday sights into 4 broad categories, alcohol, juices, dairy or sodas (mineral, even if it sparkles shouldn’t be that drink).

“I’m such an idiot!” As if on cue, the phone vibrated.

I shook a random can. Agitate it so as to use a better term. When shit happens, when the situation precedes our wishes, people in particular get agitated to such a phenomenal level that their mastery of the mind falters and pretty much the human fight/flight response kicks into overdrive. Mine’s flight. Hopefully that’s not indefinite. But hey, I don’t have ichor running the machineries of this disease ridden body.

...

I sat, accompanied by some homeless guy, watching the city get ready for the night. Tired faces, stench rising of ammonia rising each time the toilet light flickers on. Cigarette smoke accompanying us like it’s an offering to our misery. Pasir Ris at night, there’s so much to see. But it’s not for me. And the wind smells like rain.

“Uncle, I’m curious. Why are you here?”

“Why you ask? Your business meh?”

“No. I’m just asking.”

The conversation wasn’t pretty. But I got what I wanted, a listening ear. And with that, he pretty much blurted out his sob story.

...

He would row out to sea, but these days the engine would suffice. Pretty much he lives off it.

But God does not play dice; he choked on a fish bone. And as he claimed, he laid there dying. Until someone, something helped him.

“Why don’t you be careful next time?”

He claimed it was an angel. But then I’d never know.

...

Cigarette smoke, it’s like an offering. To misery, to the doctor, we contribute to the economy, contribute to statistics.

I wonder. In the old man’s story, he had his angel. When will God give me mine? As I lay thinking, there was this annoying, incessant knock on the door. I looked at the time. It’s time for my medication again. I shook the bottle of cough syrup. It’s nice how this makes you drowsy; makes you forget everything.

Then it happened. All these while, I was trying to knock of heaven’s door. All these while, when Life shook my can up, I didn’t blow. All these while, heaven was knocking on my door, calling me. And I was there, just ignoring it. I walked towards the door.

And there she was, the Angel at my doorstep.

“Eat your medicine.”

“Okay Ibu.”

“As for guys I think they will be more protective towards moms’ when they start to see how vulnerable they are. For girls, I think the feelings they have towards their moms change as they get older, their relationship too. Like when we were younger we run to them for everything even then we take them for granted since a mother's love is easily available, we chase after fathers' love because that’s not easily given to us. Then we hit puberty and we start hating our moms, resenting them even. But slowly, we realize we are a lot like our moms and that’s why we fought with them so much. –Khine.”

We often forget, there’s always someone there for us and we feel depressed when things go wrong for us. We don’t always remember. But our mothers have always been there for us, when we’re sick, when because of a girl we forsake our mothers. For me, my mother, and this story is for my Angel. My mother